Christmas is here, winter is coming

Tom Gelsthorpe

Friday

Dec 23, 2011 at 2:00 AMDec 27, 2011 at 12:35 AM

The turn of the seasons on Cape Cod is exquisitely synchronized. Every November, everyone says, "I can't remember a fall this beautiful." The weather is bracing through most of December but not frigid until Christmas. When the weather finally turns harsh, the days start getting longer — cycles of astronomical balance that keep us humble and appreciative at the same time.

The turn of the seasons on Cape Cod is exquisitely synchronized. Every November, everyone says, "I can't remember a fall this beautiful." The weather is bracing through most of December but not frigid until Christmas. When the weather finally turns harsh, the days start getting longer — cycles of astronomical balance that keep us humble and appreciative at the same time.

This year as usual, my last rose dropped its petals around Thanksgiving and the petunias eked out blooms until early December. After a few weeks of morning frost on shrubs and rooftops, the ground froze for the first time a few days before the solstice. With luck, snowdrops or a brave crocus will emerge in February, leaving January the only month with no flowers at all. It's been nice enough to paint the garage, but I better reach a stopping point soon. Balmy afternoons will soon be scarce. I would have completed the north and east walls last weekend but while putting away window boxes my old farmer's back made the chicken-bone noise that says, "Hold your horses!" My sacro-whatchamacallit needed a fixer-upper.

I'm confident my chiropractor will have me ambulatory before the home beautification project falls apart. In the meantime, I'll gimp around like Walter Brennan. My wife has long said I squeak like him already. The eight-ton cranberry days when I was young and dauntless have left their mark. Although cartwheeling days are behind me, in another week I'll be game enough to scoop the leaves from the last two gutters and bury the final flowerbeds in fallen leaves. The perennial bananas, astilbes and hostas will slumber until May.

One of the consolations of advancing age is that everyone under 45 seems like a kid. When I was a teenager 35-year-olds with crow's feet seemed geriatric. By my current standard, the world is teeming with kids who hop like jackrabbits and pirouette on the dance floor without a moment's hesitation, bounding through lives filled with infinite possibilities — a wonderful world.

Everyone's gearing up for festivities with loved ones. In recent years, people have become timid about saying, "Merry Christmas," preferring "Happy Holidays" or the generic "Seasons Greetings." If it's a "holy day," come right out with it and say which one; you're safe with me. Whether it's a pagan elf, holy infant or carnival of lights banishing the gloom, if you're feeling merry for any reason during this dark, chilly time of year, I shan't quibble.

There's always some spoilsport who will argue there's so much suffering in the world, "How dare you make merry?" I'm the other way. If there's suffering in the world, then make merry by all means. Whether you believe the trip ends with your last breath or continues apace, there is always something to celebrate. Does the world need more sourpusses? Or more joy?

Christopher Hitchens, the brilliant, recently deceased atheist, was famously merry, loved and admired by allies and opponents alike. If he were still holding court, I might elbow my way to the front of the pack to ask, "Yes, Hitch, zealots cause a lot of woe, but should atheists be wet blankets? What the matter with a creche here and there? Who doesn't like a baby? Can we enjoy a baby's humble birth without quibbling about theology?"

Peace on earth, good will towards men, troops returning from Iraq — these are noble sentiments, promising events. There will be more disappointments certainly, but it's good to have an official period to believe that all good things are possible. The winter months following the holidays is the time to regroup, let reality settle in, make hard-headed plans. For the next ten days it's enough to remind everyone you see that the people you love make it all worthwhile.

Before long, holiday merriment will fade, snow will blanket the ground and throw a hush over everything. I'll be squirreling into the history of the Cape Cod Canal for the 2014 Centennial. Memories of good people and great achievements will never fade. I hope you, too, are enjoying the ones you love and looking forward.

Tom Gelsthorpe, a sailor and former farmer, lives in Cataumet. Call him at 508-564-4919 or email him at thomasgelsthorpe@gmail.com.

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